


Kiss Away the Difference

by orphan_account



Series: Love at Second Sight [4]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Boyd x Derek brOTP, Kid Fic, Kid!Isaac, Kid!Jackson, Kid!Scott, Lydia is done with your bullshit, M/M, Stiles x Danny brOTP, basically ALL the brOTPs, oh my god a wedding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-15
Updated: 2013-03-15
Packaged: 2017-12-05 10:21:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/721963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How do you forget your wedding is today? </p><p>Stiles and Derek manage somehow. Along the way, Jackson's proud of his ability in lacrosse, Scott's done with his parent's PDA, and Stiles REALLY just wants to set a good example for his children, okay? Everyone else could care less about the 'no-profanity' rule.</p><p>Derek just wants to call Stiles 'Mr. Hale'. (Spoiler: he does.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kiss Away the Difference

**Author's Note:**

> OH MY GOD, THE WEDDING.
> 
> Title from 'Where the Story Ends', by The Fray. OH MY GOD, I REDISCOVERED THAT SONG TODAY AND I STILL LOVE IT.

FEBRUARY 21

_“I hate everything.”_

Stiles is sprawled on the hardwood floor, hands draped over his face, and Derek is pinching the bridge of his nose. “ _Kill_ me, Derek, love,” Stiles begs, muffled. “Please, be merciful and end me now.” He kicks out with his feet, and informs the room at large, “I don’t deserve this pain.”

“Shut it, Stilinski,” Lydia says, and turns to the next page of the wedding catalogue. Stiles groans loudly, and she snaps, “We’ll have the reception _with dancing_ , I think.”

“Oh god!” Stiles yelps, scrambling to his feet. “I’m going to be sick, I’m gonna be sick, get me _out of here_!” He runs out of the room, and Derek hears a door slam, and water begin to run.

“Was that intentional?” he asks Lydia, who grins sharply, and nods. He hears muted thuds, and stands. Instantly, her hands—god, they’re so sharp they’re _claws_ —are around his wrist. “C’mon, Lydia.”

Lydia is one of those ultra-chic women, and Stiles gave him some answers on Miss Lydia Jean Martin, but not many. He had a crush on her through high school, but it died soon thereof. Evidently, Lydia dated a douche, hiding her cleverness under a shallow exterior. After they broke up, and Stiles came out, they became friends. In college she excelled, beginning her own business, to “run people’s lives”. A wedding planner.

 _“Miss Martin,”_ she stresses, and lets go. Derek jerks his wrist to his chest, and an obnoxiously loud moan echoes in the hallway. “Stiles Stilinski, you _behave_. Now, Derek, what is our color theme? Violet and white? Blue and pink? Give me something. You’ll wear a black tux, of course, and Stiles will wear a white one—”

“Nope, nope, nope,” Stiles interrupts, crawling army-style into the room. Derek watches him, exasperated and amused both, at his fiancé. Stiles scrambles to his feet. “I’m not a blushing virgin. Not all of the people you deal with are. I’m not, so there. I’ll wear a teal tux. Our wedding theme is black and red.”

Lydia stills. Stiles turns to Derek in that split second, and manages, “Plug your ears, love,” before the earth-shattering scream sounds.

_“RED AND TEAL DON’T FUCKING GO TOGETHER.”_

*

MARCH 1

“Here in town you can tell he’s been down for a while,” Stiles croons as Derek sits on the bed, listening to him rustle in Scott’s bedroom. “But, my god, it’s so beautiful when the boy smiles. Wanna hold him. Maybe I’ll just sing about it. ’Cause you can’t jump the track, we’re like cars on a cable…”

Derek’s phone buzzes, interrupting his soft adoration of his fiancé, and he glances at it.

BOYD: _I hope you remember you two and the boys need to be at the church by five. Derek, goddammit, it’s three. PICK UP JACKSON, FUCKER._

Oh shit. “Stiles!” he exclaims. There’s a scrabble, and Stiles’s singing is shut off. _“THE WEDDING!”_

“Oh my god!” The yell hurts Derek’s ears, but he’s out of their bedroom, downstairs to find Isaac and Scott coloring. They stare up at him, collected, while he pants out that they need to get ready and pick up Jackson. As they tread the stairs again—Isaac clutching onto the stairwell and Derek’s hand—the shout sounds again. “Oh my _god_ , I’m getting married.”

“Suits in your room, boys,” Derek says, ignoring the overdramatic man in their bedroom. “Let me get Tatusiu and I dressed, and we’ll help you, okay?”

They nod, and Derek strides back into his bedroom to find Stiles flailing at his teal tux, down to his boxers. “I can’t get it on, Derek! I mean, I showered today, but _today is my wedding and I can’t get my tuxedo on_.” Stiles looks close to a panic attack. Derek knows he, himself, can be dressed in under a minute, so he carefully takes the tux from Stiles, and shoves the pants at him.

“These first, babe,” he says. Stiles pauses, looks around, wild-eyed, before nodding, and jerkily pulling them on. Derek wants to laugh, but by the lack of shrieks down the hallway, the boys are having an easier time than Stiles. “Now the button-down.” And passes the black (Lydia had another screaming match with that) shirt to Stiles, who fumbles, but succeeds in buttoning it up.

“And the jacket,” Stiles says throatily, his pupils blown from—apprehension? He makes half-aborted movements for it, but Derek does it himself, carefully slipping Stiles’s arms into the jacket and kissing him. “Thanks, love.” He exhales slowly, sinking to the bed, and Derek fetches his own suit—black, except with a darker teal shirt to match Stiles—but Stiles helps him with his jacket as well.

“Tatusiu! Papa!” The boys come running in, Scott’s little red suit jacket endearingly crooked, and Isaac’s white one spotless. “We do okay?”

“Perfect,” Stiles reassures, and gathers them for a brief hug before turning and kissing Derek back. “Love you,” he muses, before pronouncing, “Derek, we need to get Jackson! Should we leave his suit here, or bring it so he can change at the dinner?”

“Bring it,” Derek shrugs, and Stiles nods, nearly sprinting to fetch the last suit, this one a yellowy-brown. Derek laughs quietly upon seeing it again. “Lydia’s going to kill you for this, you know, right?” he asks as they lead the boys to the car. “She gave us a list of ‘matching colors’ for a reason.”

“Reasons are made to be broken,” Stiles quips flippantly, buckling Isaac into his car seat. “Kochanie, don’t press the red button, remember? Otter, honey, put on your seat belt so we can pick up Jacks.”

“Ok-ay,” Scott whines. “But I’m hungry!” Derek and Stiles share a quick glance, and Stiles dashes back inside, bringing out five granola bars.

“Eat quick, boys, and so help you god if you get chocolate on your suits. Not by me, of course. Lydia.” He laughs loudly, and Derek smiles softly, before shutting his own car door and driving towards the school.

“I’ll stay in the car,” Stiles offers, and _once a-fucking-gain_ he begins wildly flipping radio stations before Derek’s even out of the car. He settles on a song Derek wants to shred, grins broadly, and begins singing obnoxiously, the boys screaming with laughter. Derek shakes his head, rolling his eyes _hard_ and walking into Jackson’s school.

“Hi, I’m here to pick up Jackson Hale,” Derek says as soon as he gets to the office. “He’s in Mr. Austin’s class, grade two.”

When Jackson arrives ten minutes later, he’s grinning broadly, hands gripping his backpack straps tightly. “We were in gym! I made a goal while we were playing lacrosse. Mr. Austin said I’m a natural! Why’d you pick me up again?” he exclaims, bouncing on the balls of his feet, as Derek fills out the sign-out sheet. “Mr. Austin did it with us! And when I made a goal, Mr. Austin congratulated me!”

Derek smiles, dropping the pen down, and ruffling Jackson’s hair. Jackson makes a wounded noise, and swiftly moves it back into place. “The wedding, remember, Jacks? And good job. I’m proud of you.”

Jackson’s eyes widen, and he nearly runs out the door. “I forgot! Oh, Tatusiu will be disappointed! I _forgot_ to make a wedding gift!” Derek follows amusedly, as Jackson barrels towards the car. When the door opens, a completely different song is playing, and Jackson freezes, as does Derek, because Scott and Isaac are both dozing as Stiles sings, quietly and soothingly.

“Ooh la love, I’ve fallen in love, and it’s better this time, than ever before,” Stiles murmurs, eyes flitting over to Jackson, and opening his arms. Jackson wraps his arms around Stiles’s neck, and hides his face. Derek watches, and thinks, crazily: _I don’t hate this song._ “Ooh la love, I’ve fallen in love, and it’s better this time, than I’ve ever known…” He whispers in Jackson’s ear, Derek barely able to catch it, “It’s fine you forgot, Jacks, darling. I’m just happy to be able to get married to your Papa.”

Jackson nods, and Derek says gruffly, “Jackson, we need to go ahead and go, if we want to be on time.”

Jackson whines, clutching at Stiles harder, and Stiles cuts his gaze at Derek, mouthing: _Dude._ Derek _really_ wants to roll his eyes, but refrains. “We’ll be late,” he tries again.

Stiles rolls his eyes instead. “Jacks, honey, your Papa’s being stubborn. Crawl in the back careful now, don’t wake your brothers. We’ll have time for snuggles tonight, promise, okay? And we’re going to be married.” Jackson complies grudgingly, and soon they’re on their way to the wedding.

To say the least, it’s an adventure. Jackson struggles with his suit, but they get it on to suit him. Boyd laughs at Stiles’s tux, and Lydia threatens Stiles with castration, but Stiles just says, “Teal and red go together, I checked,” and she goes to drown her sorrows in wine. Scott’s entranced by Allison, and Isaac clings to Stiles’s hands, overwhelmed with the noise and people. Half of Derek’s company is there, and _so is his uncle_ , he blames Lydia and Erica entirely.

The wedding itself goes smoothly. Stiles walks down the aisle with his father, and grins blindingly when he nearly falls. When they are pronounced husband and husband, they kiss, a clash of power and worship and _love_.

“Cake!” Stiles cries suddenly, when they make it to dinner. “I want some god— _dang_ , cake. Chocolate. Isn’t that what our wedding cake is made out of? _LYDIA, WHAT’S OUR WEDDING CAKE MADE OUT OF_?” he screams across the room, and there’s a brief pause before laughter explodes in the room.

 _“STILES, I’M GOING TO KILL YOU,”_ Lydia shrieks back _. “IT’S RED VELVET, DUMBASS.”_

Jackson is following Danny like a lost puppy, and Danny is doting upon him, telling him little things that makes Derek want to gag from the sugary sweetness of how _good_ Danny is with kids. “They’re adorable,” Stiles says into his ear. Isaac’s found someone to cling to—Boyd—and holy hell if that’s not a surprise. “Allison _loves_ Scott, look at her.”

Derek does. Allison’s kneeling down, eye to eye with Scott, and she brushes a stray curl of his behind his ear. Scott grins, and she kisses his cheek, which leads to him blushing furiously. He asks an unheard question, and she nods. They disappear in the crowd of people, and Stiles kisses Derek’s cheek. “Love you,” he says quietly, and damn, it’s time for the toasts.

Lydia goes first, surprisingly. She waits until the whole hall is silent, before staring at Stiles. “I met Stiles when we were children. He had a crush on me, and he was adorable—but not what I was looking for in a romantic interest. However, Stiles has been much more to me as a friend and brother, and I love him for it. I was surprised when he told me he was getting married to Derek Hale, and quite frankly, rather protective, but upon seeing them together, I wanted to die from all the love in them. Stiles, dear, you make me want to kill you with your obstinacy, but I wish you the best.” She flounces back down in her chair, and Allison rises.

Derek looks at Stiles, and squeezes his hand. Stiles’s mouth is open, seemingly astounded.

“Stiles, Derek,” she says delicately. “I did not know Stiles until Derek introduced me, but very easily, I found him to be a solid man, a good man of trust and fun and happiness. Stiles is now one of my closest friends, and Derek too. That’s what killed me—how happy he makes Derek. And Derek seems to be filled to the brim with happiness and exasperation, and that’s how love works, I think. They’re a push-pull couple, and that’s how _they_ work. Rest assured I’ll babysit any time you need.” She smiles, sitting down gracefully.

Stiles’s face is redder, and his eyes are wide. Derek wraps an arm around his waist and Stiles leans into it as _Peter_ rises. Oh Jesus.

“Well, Derek, getting married I see,” he drawls, gaze flickering around the hall. “The food was good, but it’s not time to eat the cake yet. Pity. Anyhow, I met Derek when he was born, and he was naked, bald, and bawling. He grew on me though. Stiles, however, I had the pleasure of meeting a few months ago. He isn’t _nice_ , he is clever and witty, and I think him an great equal to Derek. Damn, Derek, what’s with you making me all kind? Well. Let’s get this over with for some goddamn cake.”

“Profanity please refrain!” Stiles calls, grinning crookedly, still pressing against Derek. “Kids are here!”

“Yeah yeah,” Peter mutters, sitting down. Stiles gives a choked noise when his father rises.

“Stiles is my son, and he’s so much like his mother it shocks me. But when I lost her, I still had him, and that’s what kept me afloat. _Him_. So, damn straight”—he chuckles at Stiles’s glare—“I’m going to play a protective father whenever I find my son with a man. Derek, however, is protective enough of Stiles for the both of us. Stiles seems happier than I’ve ever seen him with you, Derek, and I thank you for making him this way. The boys too, they make him happy.” He smiles wistfully. “He’s his mother’s son, through and through. And Stiles, son? I _do_ thank you for allowing me to eat actual _food_ here and not rabbit food.”

The microphone is passed, and Stiles’s eyes are glossy and wide with tears. “My mom,” he chokes out, and Derek moves his other hand to press his thumb in Stiles’s palm, anchoring him.

“Derek’s a dumbass,” Boyd begins promptly, and Derek barks out a short laugh, Stiles doing as well, shakily. “But not when it comes to Stiles. Or, at least, without good reason. Or none at all. Actually, _yeah_ , he is a dumbass when it comes to Stiles. But I don’t think Stiles minds, or else we wouldn’t be here. So, anyway, Stiles is a great man and father, and I guess he’s who Derek watched when learning how to be a father as well. They’re a sickening couple, and I’m happy for them. Derek’s still a dumbass, though.”

 _“PROFANITY,”_ Stiles yells, before dropping his forehead to the table. Derek grins, and Danny takes his turn.

“I go last? What does that say about me?” he asks absently. “Stiles is my best friend, okay? And we hacked together as kids in high school. And we consoled each other’s broken hearts. And I’m actually pretty jealous that Stiles is the one who found the love of his life first. Derek, if you keep Stiles and I from having our playdates, so help me God. Honestly, you two made me _sick_. Many more years, assholes.” He laughs, dimples showing, and Stiles bursts out laughing.

 _“I GIVE THE FUCK UP,”_ he yells, and turns to Derek, grabbing his face with both hands and kissing him long and hard.

*

MARCH 2

“The cake, the cake,” Stiles mumbles, rubbing his eyes, as he walks into the kitchen the next morning. Derek smirks inwardly when he notices a slight limp in his step. “I want some fucking cake.”

“You’re lucky the boys aren’t up yet,” Derek says, ignoring the fact that the only reason they aren’t is because _someone_ slipped them a little wine in their juice. He’s going to have a very strict talk with Peter.

“Yeah yeah,” Stiles huffs, wrapping a hand around Derek’s waist as he continues sipping coffee. “Hey, Der? You happy?”

“Very, Mr. Hale,” Derek says, and as Stiles wrinkles his nose, he kisses Stiles slowly, deeply, chasing the words off of his lips and swallowing them whole. “I’m very happy.”

 _“Gross!”_ Scott yelps, stumbling into the kitchen. “Jackson, you were right! Eew, I don’t wanna see that!” He runs back out, and collapses onto the couch in the living room, groaning.

“I told you!” comes Jackson’s muffled voice.

Isaac chimes in, “They love each other, so it’s ’lowed.”

Stiles turns to look at Derek, before dissolving into laughter. Derek kisses his forehead, and picks his coffee up again. “Cake’s in the fridge,” he says, knowing that Stiles will lament Derek’s choice of preservation of the cake.

And Stiles does.

 

**Author's Note:**

> And.. is that the end? I really don't know. I love this AU so much. I really do.
> 
> I love me some brOTPs. AllisonxStiles too! I really think this is the first AU that I haven't killed Lydia off (because I've got some WIP AUs with her dead).
> 
> WE KNOW THE DRILL. I love you all to death. Sorry for the suffocating sugary fluff.


End file.
